


Road Dogs: Eleventy, Hot Messes: Sixty-Nine

by HectorRashbaum (FifteenDozenTimes)



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Jonas Brothers, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-05
Updated: 2009-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/HectorRashbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBR's Hot Messes versus the Jonas Brothers' Road Dogs in an epic battle of the softball titans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Dogs: Eleventy, Hot Messes: Sixty-Nine

**Author's Note:**

> "Flawless" is Jack Lawless, the Jonas Brothers' drummer. I believe that's the only un-googlable reference.

Kevin didn't expect them to have uniforms, but if he had, he totally would have expected them to be bright pink. With leopard-print lettering. Which is what they are, which means Pete must've let Gabe design them. Which was kind of a brilliant move, because Joe's eying them like he wants nothing more than to be on the Hot Messes, and completely ignoring all of Nick's helpful tips.

Of course, Nick can't be too focused on _giving_ those helpful tips, 'cause he starts hollering about fraternizing with the enemy when Kevin's only taken, like, three steps towards Mike. When he starts to turn back, Joe just winks, and asks Nick to remind him the difference between a strike and a ball, and which one's good.

Nick shouldn't be dumb enough to fall for that, except he is.

"If you tell me pink is my color, I'll cut you," Mike says, before Kevin can say exactly that.

Kevin just grins, sheepish, and kisses him.

"Yo, Jonas, I've got an offer you can't refuse," Gabe says, which means he's about to make an offer which Kevin absolutely has to refuse. "Join our team and you get to wear this sweet jersey we got just for our favorite poodle."

Pete dangles it in front of him; the way the fabric's bunched it takes him a second to realize it says MRS. CARDEN. He should probably be offended.

"Since when are we married?"

"See, that's what I tried to tell him," Mike says, "but you try talking to him when he thinks he's being funny."

"I'm being _hilarious_, fuck you," Gabe says, and tosses the shirt to Kevin without waiting for him to give a yes or no.

Over by the Road Dogs dugout, Nick's started yelling again, and Kevin's pretty sure he hears his name, so he kisses Mike again. "I, uh, think our Captain needs me."

When Mike kisses him hard, dips him low, Kevin can just hear Nick hollering about dirty distraction tactics. Which, he might have a point, 'cause when Mike lets him stand back up he needs to blink for a second to get his bearings.

As Kevin jogs back over, Gabe starts yelling about the dirty things Mike'll do if he throws the game, Nick's pretty obviously gearing up for a just-because-it's-fun-doesn't-mean-it-can't-be-serious lecture, and today is probably gonna be awesome.

\- - - - - -

When he first talked about this with Pete, it had seemed like an awesome idea; of course, Nick hadn't taken into account that most of his exposure to FBR has been through Mike, and Mike is a completely normal human being. None of Mike's friends can say the same about themselves, though.

If he hadn't doubted his judgement when the Hot Messes came striding up in pink shirts, more than one of them in hot pants (Vicky-T's legs are more covered than Gabe's, by a lot), when they set up a keg in their dugout and brought out cooler after cooler after cooler that probably didn't have Gatorade, when Mike made out with Kevin and got him all giddy and distracted before the game even started, he doubts it now.

Because Nick's first at-bat was a double, and Beckett's playing second base.

"If I'd been catcher, would that've been a home run?" Beckett asks, bats his eyelashes; Nick doesn't answer, partly because he tries not to react to Beckett, and partly because they both know if Beckett had been catcher he would've made such a big deal about being level with Nick's ass Nick wouldn't've been able to hit a thing.

Joe strikes out; Joe shouldn't have been next in the batting order, Joe shouldn't be _anywhere_ in the batting order, they should send him back with Butcher and Siska to announce and keep score (except for how that would be the _world's worst idea_), and Nick's stuck with Beckett for just that much longer.

"You can stop pretending you don't adore me, those pants don't leave much to the imagination," Beckett says, grins, and Nick says a quick prayer of thanks when Garbo nails it, sends one flying back to the wall, just short of a home run.

Beckett wiggles his fingers in a girly wave when Nick takes off; this is gonna be a long, long day.

\- - - - - -

Normally, Joe's fine playing way in the outfield; the less chances he has to mess up, the less time he has to spend pretending not to laugh at Nick's SuperCoach lectures. You do _not_ want to laugh at SuperCoach Nick, if you value your life and your bruise-free skin.

But today he'd actually like to be a little closer to the action, because, shit, they're having fun in there. And Nick is _totally_ wasting shortstop, just rolling his eyes when Vicky-T knocks Garbo over every time she gets near him, or when Brendon climbs Big Rob's back and Rob pretends not to notice, or when Kevin smacks Mike's ass to tag him out and Mike makes out with him as...revenge, or something.

Gabe hits a fly ball near first while Joe's wallowing; it takes him a second to realize Nick's hollering because Kevin's still making out with Mike. So Joe _books it_ to first, actually manages to catch the fucking ball, what, but he's got too much momentum, he's gonna plow right into Gabe's back and send them both flying. So he does what any sensible baseball hero would do – hollers "Piggyback!" and jumps.

It probably says a lot about Gabe and the people he spends his time with that he braces himself as soon as Joe hollers, doesn't even think about it. He runs Joe around the diamond twice, which means Joe's probably blown his chances of getting a "nice one, bro" from Nick, but whatever, he's learned a valuable lesson about making your own fun, or some shit.

\- - - - - -

The way Kevin's been staring at Mike all day, same way he stares at him onstage, like he's a starving man in the desert and Mike's a fucking chocolate cake is flattering, and really hot, but also kind of obnoxious. Because Mike has his competitive side, okay, and if he's gonna strike Kevin out it's gonna be because he's _good_, not because he's apparently distractingly sexy.

Of course, the glare he get when he whiffs one by Kevin's head, close enough to startle but not to touch him, probably means his plan of getting him to focus was a stupid one that isn't gonna end with, like, getting jumped on the mound. Which might've been the end result of the "take me now you sexy, sexy man" face. Man, that was stupid.

Really stupid; when he pitches for real, Kevin hits it out of the fucking park, sends Flawless and Nick home along with himself. Mike's whole dugout starts hollering about taking it easy on the wife, but when Kevin rounds home he jogs over to the mound, kisses Mike hot and dirty and full of promise, and Mike no longer regrets...uh, whatever it was he was regretting.

\- - - - - -

Pete and Nick had argued over whether this should be a seven-inning game or nine; looking around at the top of the seventh, Nick's kind of glad he took Pete's advice and stuck to the shorter game. Mike's so drunk _he's_ started calling Kevin "Mrs. Carden" and "wifey"; Kevin's disappeared into their dugout a few times and Nick's pretty sure he was drinking in there, 'cause he's not stopping Mike or getting all blushy. Joe's asked six times when he bats, and Nick's answered him all six; Garbo keep switching positions after Vicky-T bats so he can flirt with her, Brendon finally left Big Rob alone out of fear for his life and has started planting wet, smacky kisses on the cheeks of anyone he can catch – which is pretty much everyone, since he's playing first base.

Kevin and Joe have started kissing back. Nick thought about calling Dad the first time that happened, let him know about the potential for disaster, but the Hot Messes have all been twittering furiously throughout the game; it's too late, now.

"I think he'll strike out," Beckett says, nodding towards Garbo.

Nick's so taken aback by something coming out of Beckett's mouth with no innuendo or proposition attached he forgets to ignore him. "Nah. He hasn't struck out yet."

Too late, he realizes his mistake. Beckett presses in close, grins. "I'll suck your dick if I'm right."

Nick keeps facing forward but cants his eyes towards Bill, smirks a little. "I'll suck yours if you don't talk for the rest of the game."

Bill backs up, opens and closes his mouth like a frigging fish out of water; Garbo hits a nice line drive right past Brendon and Nick keeps smirking as he runs, makes it to third easily.

\- - - - - -

"Shut the fuck up, Gabe, I'm trying to be silent!" Beckett hollers, loud enough that everyone stops what they're doing and just stares at him. "Oh. Shit. Fuck you, Saporta."

Kevin is officially confused, especially since Nick looks weirdly triumphant. This is probably one of those times he shouldn't ask; he doesn't have to, Gabe leans over with a stupid grin. "Apparently, Nick was gonna blow him if he didn't talk the rest of the day."

Mike snorts. "That's the world's safest bet. Smart kid," he says, then shifts Kevin off his lap and swats at his ass. "You should probably go take your position before Joe thinks he's supposed to play first."

Joe, actually, is already jogging over from center field, so Kevin hurries out to head him off. The game might have turned into a giant mess, but there's never any mess big enough to let Joe anywhere important. That's number one on Nick's list of Softball Rules, for many very good reasons.

\- - - - - -

Butcher and Siska apparently stopped keeping score sometime before the game actually started; they proclaim the final score as Road Dogs, eleventy, Hot Messes, sixty-nine, and nobody, not even Nick, bothers to argue.


End file.
